


A Modern Age

by aunt_deen



Category: Doctor Who, Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:25:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4582392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_deen/pseuds/aunt_deen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It appeared in my head and I had to write it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Modern Age

Jack was not surprised that Stephen was late. Not a bit of it. He was doubtless still deep in conversation with M. Morel, in _French_ , no less, oblivious to suspicious stares from passing Londoners. Stephen had never cared much for promptness. Today his tardiness was decidedly inconvenient, however. It was going on midnight and the _Surprise_ was to sail on the morning tide. Whilst Jack was confident of Mr. Mowett's capabilites, he still preferred to oversee preparations himself. He looked up expectantly on hearing his name, a mild rebuke on his lips.

 

But the approaching voices did not belong to two chattering naturalists, but to as odd a pair as he had seen in London or even in his travels. The man was tall, wearing a battered jacket of leather over a woolen tunic of deep green. The girl who held his hand was less than twenty, scandalously dressed in a tight pair of blue trousers and a thin shirt of startling cerise. Her hair was loose and untidy and appeared to have been dyed, and her eyes were caked with khol. A foreign prostitute with her procurer, Jack guessed. But no. Her speech was distinctly London. And the behavior of the two was far too comfortable for such and, while intimate, did not appear to be of a sexual nature.

 

Their conversation, increasingly clear as they approached, was the most puzzling of all. “Serve him right if we left him. Bloody humans, can’t follow simple instructions.”

 

“Doctor! You know Jack wouldn’t just swan off—” She broke off at her companion’s look. “Okay, yeah, he might do if he met someone…”

 

“Someone who’d give him a quick shag, no matter we’ve got a schedule to keep. Randy bugger.”

 

“We’ve got a bloody great _time machine._ ‘S not like we’re going to be late to a dinner that started a thousand years ago.” Her tone was reasonable, for all the inanity of her words.

 

The two noticed Jack at the same time. He felt all at sea, unsure whether to scold the girl for her attire, give the man a dressing-down for his language before a lady, or summon the constabulary to cart them off to the nearest asylum. He settled for a repressive stare, tinged with appropriate disapproval.

 

The man beamed at him and waved his free hand cheerily. “Hello!”

 

The girl looked uncomfortable and tugged at her clothing. Then she looked at him directly and spoke. “We’re lookin’ for someone. Maybe you’ve seen ‘im? Tall bloke, dark hair, good looking …” she trailed off. “Lots of teeth?”

 

Jack supposed a reply would be the quickest way to be shed of them. “I’m afraid not.”

 

“Oh. Well. Thanks anyway.” She allowed the man to tug her along.

 

“The TARDIS’ll do a scan for him,” the man said in his broad Northern accent, not appearing to care that Jack was still listening. “Then we’ll see how much he likes shagging with my foot up his arse.”

 

The girl laughed and the last Jack heard as they rounded the corner was, “Well actually ….”

 

Then they were gone.

 

Jack shook his head and turned to the welcome sight of Stephen, hurrying along, careless of the puddles as was his wont. “Jack! Forgive my lateness. Morel was telling me of a fascinating study he’s published on the _pionites leucogaster,_ and…”

 

Jack cut him short. “Fascinating, no doubt, Stephen, but you must tell me of it as we walk. The _Surprise_ awaits.” He turned into an alley, willing to risk encounter with unsavory elements to save time. Stephen described his bird as they walked and Jack’s mood lightened as he felt a rush of fondness, if not for the subject, then at least for Stephen’s enthusiasm.

 

A faint sound ahead cut through Stephen’s voice and Jack quieted him with a touch. They moved forward as stealthily as they could manage, carefully avoiding the debris that littered the greasy cobblestones. The sound came again. A moan. Stephen raised an eyebrow at Jack’s enquiring look. A furtive assignation? Or some poor soul in need of help?

 

As they reached the last corner and Jack prepared to peer cautiously around, the moan came again, and it was definitely one of pleasure. Jack froze. He would have withdrawn, immediately and silently, but that voice …Feeling every bit of a prurient scrub, he took the last step.

 

Two forms writhed slowly against the filthy wall. Jack saw a Navy coat, a fall of dark hair, loosely tied, and a familiar slope of shoulder. Tom Pullings. The other figure, Jack could not see, but it was decidedly male. Pale hands stroked smoothly up Pullings’ back, then down again to squeeze and pull. The moan came again. That moan Jack knew well, usually muffled against Jack’s own hand as he pushed steadily from behind. He stood, Stephen forgotten, feeling as if he could not have moved if the buildings came down around him.

 

Pullings and the other man kissed deeply, open mouths slanted against each other, jaws working slowly. The stranger’s hand lifted, fingers threading into Tom’s hair and gripping tight. Curious decoration lined the cuff of his sleeve, like tiny silver teeth.

 

Abruptly, the stranger twisted and put Pullings to the wall. Jack felt a shock deep in his belly but didn’t move but for his cock, stirring inside his breeches. The kiss broke and the stranger (the style of his hair was odd as well) sank smoothly to his knees and had Pullings’ stiff shaft out directly. Jack only caught a glimpse before the stranger sucked it greedily into his mouth. Pullings groaned through tight lips and clenched teeth and his head flew back to thump hard against the wall. “Oh, Christ,” he whispered. His eyes flew open and stared blankly at the sky as the dark head bobbed steadily below. Then he blinked and his gaze suddenly focused on Jack.

 

Heat flushed through Jack’s entire body. Pullings’ eyes were shocked and no little bit horrified and Jack wanted to sink into the cobblestones in shame. Caught watching his junior officer in a bit of back-alley carnality, like some cheap voyeur. And still he didn’t move.

 

“Captain,” Pullings gasped.

 

“Mmmmm?” The stranger pulled off Pullings’ cock with an obscene slurp and looked up at the man who was suddenly, amazingly, paying no attention to him. He turned. He cast a startled gaze over Jack and behind him to where Stephen must be (Jack felt a surge of renewed shame and simultaneously a puzzling lightening of his burden) and the handsome countenance took on a cast of wicked amusement. “Good evening, gentlemen.” American? His hand stroked Tom’s shaft lazily. “The more the merrier.” His grin sparkled.

 

 _Lots of teeth,_ Jack thought stupidly, and was suddenly roused to motion by Stephen’s hand on his shoulder. He didn’t meet Pullings’ eyes but instead addressed a hasty remark to his left elbow. “Departure at six bells, Mr. Pullings.” He turned and followed Stephen back up the alley with indecorous haste.

 

“Aye, sir,” came faintly after him.

 

They reached the open air of the street and Jack breathed deeply, then cast an embarrassed glance to his companion. Stephen was flushed and his eyes were bright.

 

“Well.” Jack shifted uncomfortably and willed his cock to subside.

 

“Back to the ship?” Stephen’s tone was calm but his eyes, which met Jack’s steadily, held a hint of mirth and also desire. Intent.

 

Jack suddenly wanted to laugh. “Yes. Back to the ship.” He set off with a brisk stride and Stephen fell in beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm American, so I welcome any Britpicking you'd care to offer.


End file.
